Not Nearly Enough
by icarusforgotten
Summary: prompt: Peter and Wade teach each other how to do something


The last thing Wade expected to see when he returned home from his mission was Peter with a pair of earphones jammed in tight, ipod clasped to the belt of his jeans, swaying comically from side to side as he stirred a pot that was dangerously close to boiling over onto the stove.

He stood there for a few minutes, noting the change in song as Peter's feet took on a new rhythm. Not to mention the static coming from the earbuds as something livelier and much more upbeat had come on.

Peter started to rotate his hips, making short, uncoordinated thrusts while he tapped his feet across the floor. He was wearing Wade's pink fuzzy bunny slippers, making a high-pitched _squeak_ every time his feet tapped out a beat. And the music must _really_ have had been loud, because Peter didn't even flinch as Wade laughed so hard he had to hold his sides to avoid collapsing over.

In fact, Peter didn't even notice him at all until he did a little spin, using the spoon as a microphone, wailing something obscure and off-key. Sounded like Celine Dion.

And damn, Peter couldn't look any more adorable if he tried as he froze in mid-spin, eyes wide and face going from ashen pale to blushing like a fire truck in 0.003 seconds flat. Sauce dripped from the spoon, and Peter didn't seem to notice at all that his clean floor now had a little blemish.

_Kid looks like he just saw a ghost._

**Maybe we forgot what universe we're in. This one looks too cute to be dating us. **

_They all look too cute to be dating us._

**Dude, your face. I bet you anything we're in the mask-hasn't-been-revealed-yet universe. **

_Now the kid's gonna puke. _

**More like he's about to piss himself.**

_I think we just pissed ourselves_.

"Well it's not like I had time to use the bathroom or anything, and it's bad to hold it in you know," he grumbled.

It took Wade a while to realize that Peter had taken out his earphones and was listening. He quirked his brow at Wade and quickly shook his head. "How much of that did you see?"

"Enough to know you stink, baby boy."

_Ooh, look at that grip tighten on the spoon!_

**Spidey's getting feisty. Maybe this can turn into angry sex.**

"I like angry sex."

"Excuse me?"

_Kid looks really pretty when his face is that shade of red_.

"My baby always looks really pretty so why don't you stuff it in a teabag and get me some fancy cheese while you're at it."

Wade knew he fucked up somewhere along the way, because Peter was coming over to him with that special look in his eye, the kind of determined look that indicated Wade did something wrong and was in some deep shit for it, so he grinned wide, anticipation building in the pit of his gut.

And _damn_ did he ever love how strong Peter was; it was just so fucking enticing when the kid could pick him up by the collar and slam him against the wall so that Wade's feet were dangling just by the tips of his toes from the floor.

"So is this a yes for angry sex?"

Peter dropped him and _fucking hell that hurt_! Now his ass was gonna be sore for the rest of the day. What did he think, that Wade could just easily repair pain like that? He was very delicate.

_We have a healing factor dumbass_.

Oh yeah.

Peter was standing above Wade with his arms crossed. "Let's backtrack for a second to where you said I 'sucked'."

It was so adorable, he was using air quotes, what a nerd.

"This _nerd_ is still awaiting an answer," he said sternly.

"You can read minds? Tell me what I'm thinking of now, baby."

"Probably something inappropriate," he said through his teeth.

"You're good at that. Did you get bitten by some radioactive brain too? Hey, maybe you can showcase your new talents to the Avengers, and if they still don't let you in, you can always threaten to reveal their darkest and most embarrassing secrets! I call dibbs on being first audience!"

"Wade, you're such an idiot sometimes! You said that out loud, I can't read minds."

"Well what about the inappropriate thoughts?"

"You're predictable," he deadpanned.

"Way to ruin a guy's fun web-head."

"I'm still waiting for an answer, Wade."

"What? About your dancing sucking? 'Cause it totally does. You looked worse than Kermit the Frog doing a jig for Miss Piggy."

"Like you can do better," he scoffed.

"Mhm, baby I _know_ I can school you on the dance floor."

"Please," Peter snorted, the fucker actually _snorted_, "if your dance moves are anything like your bedroom moves, I don't think I have anything to worry about."

"_Hey_! Last I remember you were screaming that you couldn't get enough of my bedroom moves!"

"That was three weeks ago, I'm sure you've forgotten what actually happened and fabricated that whole memory with your imagination. I bet you can't even remember what you had for breakfast."

"For your information, I was getting blown up in the middle of breakfast, thank you very much." What a jerk.

"My point exactly."

_Kid's laughing at us, you gonna fix that or what?_

**Just get the little rug-rat angry again, then you can fix the tiny problem in your pants.**

"Hey, butterface, there's nothing _tiny_ about that problem."

"What problem?" Peter was at the stove again, earbuds tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, standing perfectly still and straight as a rod. It was unsettling, especially with how carefree and relaxed he was moments before Wade had come home.

And really it wasn't that much of a surprise. It shouldn't have been. Of course Peter would be happier without him in the house. He probably had parties like these for himself all the time when Wade was away. That would explain why Wade had never seen him having that kind of fun with him around.

That would also explain why he was so high-strung whenever Wade would come back.

The silence between them grew stiff, and Peter turned around to look at Wade.

It was hard, really. Knowing what to think.

Because when Peter looked at him with those eyes, with the kind of soft look that made him feel wanted and appreciated, the kind of look that was saved only for him in these moments of self-doubt, or in the quiet intimacy of their bed or the shower, it was really hard for Wade to just listen to the part of himself that kept on trying to convince him that he wasn't worth shit.

But before he walked in, he'd seen Peter happy, truly happy. The kind of joy that someone would have in the privacy of confidence. And when that had fallen as he walked in, didn't that then mean that Peter didn't feel confident around him? That he wasn't happy? Around him?

And that just wouldn't do, now would it?

"Hey, are you listening?"

Wade shook his head, brought back to reality with the stern annoyance in Peter's voice. The look on his face was filled with concern. It hurt to see.

"Wade?"

His name coming off Peter's lips sounded so wrong. Like it just didn't belong.

But that had always been the case, hadn't it?

The stove was turned off, and hesitantly, almost with an aura akin to fear, Peter crossed the small kitchen to stand right before him, hands careful as they lifted to brush across the raw texture of his face.

He tried really hard not to flinch away – just took Peter's hand in his, guiding it slowly away from his face before letting go.

But Peter's hand shot out and grasped his firmly, fingers squeezing so tight they trembled, and it just made it that much harder.

"Wade, what's wrong?" There was so much emotion in Peter's voice.

**He knows what you're thinking of doing. Look at his eyes – they're shining. He's excited. Just give the kid what he wants. **

"You're right."

"Right about what, Wade?" There was panic flashing across his eyes.

**He probably just thinks you're gonna change your mind and stick around. **

"Wade, this is really starting to scare me."

And he could feel his whole body shaking as Peter pushed him back against the wall and held him, face hidden in the crook of his neck. He couldn't push him away if he tried, and fuck did he ever try. But Peter's strength was so powerful, the most he could accomplish was make it harder for himself to breathe as Peter clung to him desperately.

He couldn't figure out why. He was trying to give him an open window. He was trying to make him -

"Happy. I just want you to be happy," he wheezed out, holding gently Peter's shoulders and his waist.

Peter stepped back, looking up curiously at him. "But I _am _happy."

_He's lying_.

"You looked happy before I came in, baby boy. You're never so carefree like that when I'm around. Just tense. And I don't want you to be tense. I need you to be happy."

Suddenly the aura around Peter changed. He felt pure _rage_ emanating off him.

"So you're telling me that you think just because you walk in on me doing something embarrassing when I think you're not around that it means I'm not happy? You really are an idiot!"

Peter pushed off away from him, pacing an uncoordinated pattern across the kitchen tiles before whirling back around to face him. "How many times have I told you that I loved you? Or that I needed you? How many fucking years have we been together, Wade? What, did you think all of that was some kind of act? That I'm just _pretending_ to be happy around you because I just take pity on how fucking _pitiful_ you think you are?"

He looked up at Wade, breath ripping through his chest in a haggard rhythm. "Please tell me you weren't going to walk away. Please tell me that I read that all wrong, Wade. Because I thought we were making great progress with you feeling comfortable about this. About _us_."

He collapsed in the kitchen chair closest to him, looking up at Wade with betrayal.

"So … you're just embarrassed at being a shitty dancer?"

Peter looked like he was about to make a snarky retort, but he clenched his hand in a fist and just grit his teeth and breathed in slowly and harshly through his nose before replying. "Sure, if you want to put it like that." His tone was hard, but not as angry as it had been moments before.

"Your singing really stinks as well."

"Don't push it, Wade."

They're quiet for a moment, and he couldn't help but stare at the little smile that Peter was fighting to keep down.

"Hey, Pete?"

"Hmm?" And there must have been something in his tone, because Peter looked up at him with this uncanny shyness, a bright heat spreading across his face as he gnawed the bottom of his lip.

"So you really are happy? With me, I mean?"

And fuck, that little gentle smile that Peter threw at him made his heart pound just like it had the first time they'd gotten together.

He was overcome with this intense urge to escape.

"Of course I am." He beckoned Wade over with his hand, a sly grin making its way up his face as he pat his thigh.

Wade slowly made his way over to Peter, carefully taking a seat in his lap. The arms that had come around him felt instinctual, and he rest his face against the crook of Peter's neck, ignoring the awkward tension in his shoulders from hunching so far into him, just breathing in his sweet scent as he was held tight.

It was beautiful, this moment, right until his stomach started growling and he felt the vibrations of Peter laughing, breath tickling his ear when he had asked if he wanted anything to eat.

.

.

Peter had finished cooking, humming something soft under his breath all the while, and it was right in the middle of their meal that Wade blurted the question.

"Want me to teach you to dance?"

And the look Peter had given him was so priceless, he wished he could have had hidden cameras installed throughout the house to replay that moment again and again, to see the quiet shock in Peter's eyes, and the way the food dripped from his mouth as he stared back at Wade, face blotching with colour.

"No." It was curt and oh so very disenchanting of Wade's little fantasy.

"You really know how to ruin a mood, you know?"

He watched as Peter quickly finished off his food, sure that he hadn't even chewed most of it as his throat bulged grossly, straining to take the load down.

"There was a mood?" Peter winked down at him, giving him a saucy grin.

"You're so hilarious," he said dryly. "Please, teach me your ways of comedy gold, the anticipation is killing me."

Peter was quiet for a moment, deliberating. "What if I do teach you something? And in exchange, I'll think about letting you teach me how to dance."

Wait, what? He didn't seriously take that jibe to his comedy as a compliment, did he? "Uh, Pete, you know that was sarcasm, right? _Ouch!_"

Who hit people with newspapers? Was this guy from the fifties or something?

"Not the comedy, genius! Though you could definitely use some brushing up in that department."

Hey! He totally took offence to that. All the effort he was making in pouting had better have made that clear.

And it looked like it had sort of worked, since Peter started chuckling, giving him one of those warm, sincere smiles that stirred the bones of his stomach. What? It was a best of both worlds combo, pretty genius, thank you very much, and nobody could tell him otherwise.

"What I meant," Peter said quietly, gently straddling Wade's lap, hands cupping his face "is that I wanted to teach you how important you are to me."

Wade froze at the words, not really knowing what to do. "Oh. Uh … hey, would you look at the time, I got some errands to run, how about that!"

He tried to move, but Peter was firmly planted on his lap, not letting him budge one bit.

"Wade, I know you're scared. I know you feel panicked when all this kind of attention is directed at you so bluntly. But trust me. I'll make this good for you. Let me just show you what you really mean to me. Please."

He wanted this, he really did, but there was just something about the way Peter looked at him that triggered his reflex to escape. It's not that he didn't believe Peter loved him.

_Really?_

Well it wasn't his fault, the boxes did a spectacular job of planting all the fucking doubt into his head.

**Sure, use us as a scapegoat here. Very creative. Do you pay people to come up with ideas this horrible, or is it all just your special charm?**

He knew Peter loved him. He did. He just struggled with accepting that this was all real. And when it all became too much, felt like it was too good to be true, what else was there to do than to sabotage it?

"And that's exactly why this is something I have to teach you."

Fuck.

"I said that out loud again, didn't I?"

"You shouldn't jump to conclusions. Maybe I _can_ read minds and I've just been holding out on you," Peter said with a wink.

"You rotten bastard, I knew it!"

"Come on _partner_," Peter laughed, feigning a horrible Western accent as he hopped off of Wade. "Show me your moves."

Wade laughed. He really should tell Peter to stop making impressions, he was really bad at them. But listening to him try was just so much fun. "I'm not teaching you a rodeo dance. Unless you totally want one. Then I can give you a completely different rodeo, if you know what I mean," he winked.

A hot blush flashed across Peter's face. "Just shut up and start dancing," he muttered.

Wade laughed as he stood, taking Peter's hand loosely into his own. "You're too tense," he said, noting how Peter's stance was rigid, his grip too tight. "Here," he said, guiding Peter's hand to his shoulder, "put that there. Now give me your other hand." Peter did so, slowly, but he could still detect the feint waves of nervousness coming off of him. Wade brought Peter's hand to his lips, placing a tender kiss to his palm before joining their hands together and holding them outstretched to the side. He placed his other hand down at the small of Peter's back, pulling him closer until their bodies were flush against each other.

"Now we move," he said, taking a small step back. Peter stumbled as he followed, grip still too tight. Still too tense. Wade huffed out a sigh. "Come on, Spidey, you have way cooler moves when you're fighting baddies. You can totally handle doing a little two-step here."

"I've never danced with anyone before," Peter said through grit teeth, turning his head off to the side to hide his face.

Wade thought for a moment. "You're a scientist, aren't you?"

Peter looked back to him, face quizzical. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, how about we do a little experiment? Maybe it will make things a little easier."

"Like what?"

He grinned down at Peter. "You're the scientist, you do the magic thinking."

"It's not magic, Wade." Peter leaned against him, head pressed into his shoulder, deliberating for a moment. He hummed something quietly, starting to sway hesitantly from side to side. "We can perform an experiment for which song is easiest to dance to. There can be refineable parameters according to music genre, and we can generate accurate data by replicating the results." He said that last part so quietly Wade almost didn't catch it.

Almost.

"Wait here," he said, running off to their room. He started rummaging through the closet, tossing aside clothes and textbooks, pushing back his box of weapons to get better access to what he was looking for.

It wasn't there.

Wade got on his hands and knees, crawling right to the back of the closet. He spotted it far to the left corner, tucked beneath old parcels and winter coats, obscured by forgotten clothes that had fallen from their hangers. The package that Aunt May had given to them for their last anniversary. Wade reached out his hand, straining to grab the box. He whined as his fingertips brushed against it, making it wobble. There were too many obstructions in the way, and Wade was far too lazy to remove every item from the closet to reach the box. Besides, he almost had it, just needed to reach a little more.

Just a _little_ more.

"Wade?"

He jerked forward at hearing Peter's voice, hand knocking the package back. An avalanche of clothes and books toppled over his head, burying him deep within the closet.

"_Wade_!"

He struggled beneath the piles of items overtop him, pushing them off one at a time. Dust clouded his eyes, making them water. He coughed, head jerking as he sneezed, shoulder bumping against something solid before another pile of books fell onto his head. Firm hands clasped around his ankles and _pulled_, but not before Wade had finally grabbed onto what he was looking for.

.

.

Peter looked worried.

_Curious. _

He liked worried better. Made him feel special.

**You're such a dramatic sap, you know?**

"Why don't you stuff it, ass-wipe!"

The box was practically ripped out from his hands. Staring down at him with a stern expression that rivalled that of Captain America's stood Peter, hand on his hip, looking so authoritative, and wow, did his tendons ever stand out when he was angry.

"You know I wasn't talking to you, right baby boy?"

"Let me guess. Another argument with the boxes."

"Yeah, yeah!" He was nodding his head so fast the whole room started to spin. He just wished Peter's frown could spin with it. Instead, it just hovered in place, like a daunting overlord threatening to end Wade's seven minutes in heaven if he said the wrong thing.

_Are you twelve?_

**Forget that, are you even making appropriate character references at this point?**

"Totally not my fault!" He said defensively.

_Totally not talking to you, dumbass_.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Speaking of boxes," he said it so off-handedly Wade could barely detect the forced change in subject.

_Really? That was pretty fucking obvious to me_.

Wade shook his head, sitting up. Focus. He needed to focus.

"Yeah, Pete?"

"What's this for?" Peter asked, holding the box up and looking at it with confusion.

"Peter!" Wade gasped, hand flying over his mouth in mock horror. "Don't tell me you've forgotten this precious anniversary gift of ours from your dear Auntie May! How could you so carelessly break her little old heart?"

The bop to his head came faster than he could anticipate. "Hey, no domestic violence! I was in a Disney cartoon, so I totally know there's kids watching. What kind of role model are you trying to be, Spidey? _Ow! Hey, come on!_"

"I don't even _want_ to know what you're talking about – it just better not have anything inappropriate to do with actual little kids, Wade."

"How _dare_ you? What do you take me for, Peter?"

"Horny and unpredictable," he said with a smug little grin.

"Fuck you, man, I don't hurt kids, you should know that."

"I know," Peter sighed. "But sometimes you say really weird things and my mind can't help but go places."

Wade snorted. "And here I thought _I_ was the perverted one."

That earned him a punch to the shoulder.

"Anyway," said Peter, taking a seat on the bed, "what were you thinking of using this for?"

"Open it," he said, lifting himself from the floor to take a seat beside Peter.

The lid was carefully removed off the box, set off to the side so neatly. Such a little perfectionist. Peter reached in, pulling out a porno and some lube. He looked over at Wade, arching his brow. "I don't think this is what my Aunt gave us for our anniversary."

"Oh shit, I forgot I put that there," he said, quickly taking the items out of Peter's hands. He tossed them behind him on the bed and took the box from Peter, rummaging until he found what he was looking for.

He pulled out an old-looking CD case, brushing off some food crumbs before handing it over to Peter.

"You'd better not be storing food in there too," Peter said with disgust.

"Oh hush up, I've put food in worse places and you know it."

"Don't remind me."

Peter looked the case over, even cracked it open and took a look inside, but couldn't find any description or playlist. "I don't think we even listened to this, did we? I would have catalogued all the songs, but there's nothing here."

Wade looked back in the box again, tossing out some moulded taco shells so he could reach the bottom. "Don't say a word," he warned. He knew he was gonna get shit later for hoarding food in their room. Peter didn't like that at all. He needed things to be kept _clean_. Like a little dirt ever actually hurt anyone.

_What about typhoid fever?_

**And tuberculosis?**

_And don't forget syphilis._

**That's an STD. **

_He never said what kind of dirty._

**Touché. **

Peter just got up and wrapped all the food remains in a paper towel, not even bothering to hide the disgust on his face. Wade just kept rummaging through the box. He remembered there was a note, or something. He just hoped he didn't do anything stupid with it, like use it as a napkin to wipe off his jizz.

"Was that it?" asked Peter when he came back into the room.

"There was a bunch of other stuff in the box, but we already used it all. The only other thing was a note, but I can't find it now. _Oh wait_! Here it is!" He pulled out a very crinkled piece of paper. It tore at the folds when he tried to open it.

Peter grabbed it out of his hands, trying to salvage as much of the writing as he could as he continued to open it, very carefully.

"_My dearest nephews_," he read, smiling over at Wade at the endearment Aunt May had started to use for him. "_I have no idea what goes for music these days – I gave up trying to figure out on the radio when something I think called 'dubstep' had come on – so I compiled a little of everything. Some of these are Peter's favourites (and some are mine), and I did my best at trying to guess what Wade would like. I hope you enjoy it, and that I didn't do too terrible of a job putting this together. Happy anniversary, boys. With great love, your Aunt May._"

Wade couldn't help the smile that was growing on his face. He looked up at Peter – he was smiling too. Looked like he just won a million bucks. He came over to sit beside Wade, taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Wade squeezed back.

"Is this what you wanted? To use the songs Aunt May gave us for our anniversary for the 'dancing experiment'?" Peter laughed, pulling Wade against him until their foreheads were together, lips just a breath apart.

"Yeah," he said, barely above a whisper.

Peter kissed him, long and lingering. "Come on," he said, standing up and pulling Wade with him. Peter popped the disc into their stereo, kicked off Wade's bunny slippers that he was still wearing, and went to stand in the center of their room, waiting.

The first song that came on was loud and fast. A club song. He looked back at Peter, arching his brow. Peter just laughed as he shook his head, indicating for Wade to switch the song to the next one.

The second song was slower. Melodic.

"I know this one," said Peter, a gentle fondness colouring his voice. "_Fields of Gold_, by Sting. Aunt May would play that one a lot when I was a kid. It was one of her favourites. I like it too." He looked over at Wade, eyes burning with quiet tenderness.

Wade took Peter's hand, pulling him close again. He moved slowly, in time with the calming instrumental. Peter clung to him, one arm loosely around his neck, the other hand carefully entwined with Wade's. He had his head resting against Wade's shoulder. Their bodies swayed in rhythm together, hands tipping from side to side as Wade quietly instructed Peter how to move his feet. When their motion became smoother, Wade pressed his face against Peter's hair, breathing him in until the song ended.

He played it again, setting the tune to repeat.

"This is nice," said Peter, stepping once more into Wade's arms. Wade held him closer this time, arms around Peter's waist, hand sliding into the back pocket of his jeans. He gave his ass a gentle squeeze.

Peter chuckled against his neck, lips just barely brushing his skin as they moved. And his voice, that sweet, calming voice. It clenched at his heart.

"You're very good," he said, pressing himself further against Wade.

"At groping?" He squeezed Peter's ass again, a little rougher this time.

Peter just laughed, tightening his hold around Wade's neck. "No, you moron. At dancing."

"I could take that as either an insult to my groping or a compliment to my dancing," he teased.

"Both," said Peter. He pressed a kiss to Wade's neck, soft and lingering. It shouldn't have made his blood race the way it did. At least not for something so innocent. But it wasn't really innocent at all, was it?

"Now it's my turn," he said quietly, hands slowly roving over Wade's shoulders, sliding down his back until they reached the hem of his uniform-shirt before slipping underneath. Wade shivered at the contact, revelling at the feel of cold fingers making their way up his back, caressing his marred skin with such tenderness it almost made him want to break away.

He pulled back slightly to look at Peter, staring him right in the eye.

His expression was so open, so perfect and beautiful that it hurt.

"Pete –" he started, voice wavering in the slightest.

"Shh," Peter said, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "Just relax."

He tried, he really did. But all the touches Peter was giving him, so careful and calculated, had him on edge. His flesh tingled with every contact, every brush of skin on skin. His breath hitched when Peter looked at him, eyes piercing with their intent. It was still unusual, having all this attention given to him so freely. Even with all the years they'd been together, Wade still felt self-conscious when Peter wanted to be intimate for him. Not with him, but _for_ him. To pamper him with so much love his heart threatened to explode and never come back with the rest of his ugly, regenerative ass.

It's not that he didn't love this. He did.

But that was the problem. Because one day when this would all be taken away from him, there was no way for Wade to even imagine what sanity could be like again.

And it scared him. Right down to his core.

"Hey," said Peter, so softly it blended with the music still playing in the background. Not that Wade could really make it out anymore. The blood pounding in his head made it hard to.

"Just focus on me," said Peter, as though he could read Wade's thoughts. Wade grinned, because maybe the little jerk _was_ holding some new powers out on him.

He was pushed back toward the bed, gently. Peter straddled his groin, leaning over to pull Wade's shirt off. Hands roamed across the expanse of his chest, and Wade closed his eyes, trying desperately to even out his breathing.

It felt nice like this. Soothing touches caressing over his rough skin. Like he was trying to smooth Wade's pain away. Peter's hands moved slowly down his abs, teasing, tender touches marking his skin, marking him as _Peter's_, making a slow advance down to the lining of his pants.

Wade squeezed his eyes tighter, biting down on his lip. He lifted his hips, felt the fabric sliding down his waist, his thighs, all the way down until they were slipped off his ankles. The hands travelled back up, wandering over his legs, exploring and mapping him out until they reached his thighs. They tightened right at the base, kneading his muscles. Pushing.

Peter spread him wide, and his hands started to slowly slide down until they reached his hips, grabbing hold of his waist. It made his breath hitch, made his body jerk when those fingers trailed up across his dick, slowly, so very slowly. His hips twitched, moving of their own want, and Wade almost suffocated on the breath gasping out his throat when those hands stroked him with firm precision. And in that moment Wade thought that if math could be written as poetry, the heat clawing at his loins would be the page to Peter's touch.

With a moan, Wade opened his eyes.

Peter was looking down at him with this obscure concentration, eyes screaming with a focus so sharp thye left the entirely of his being haunted. Without a second wasted, Peter dipped his head, keeping Wade hypnotized with that sensual gaze.

And Wade was forced to watch as Peter took him in his mouth, the pleasure of his tongue against the anguished throbbing of Wade's need heightened by those very eyes.

This was something more. Something beyond making love. Something frighteningly _spiritual_. Like it made up for all the times he never saw the light before he was yanked back into an unforgiving world.

Except now Wade was being forgiven. His redemption in the form of a brave and curious boy.

Something inside him snapped.

There was a desperate urgency taking him over.

He brought his hands to Peter's head, pulling him down, so far that he saw the stars dancing at the back of his eyes when his tip was struck against Peter's throat, again and again. He cried out, the sound lost amidst the gurgling strain of his clenched throat, biting his lip until it bled. Until he couldn't hold it back anymore and screamed out Peter's name, fingers tugging at his hair, pulling him down a final time before letting go.

Wade forced his body to still. It wasn't that hard – the choking sounds Peter was making as he moved off of Wade were motivation enough.

But they didn't last long. Peter breathed in deeply, leaning his head back to open his airways as much as he could. And like nothing at all had happened, he grabbed the lube and started to slide a finger deep into Wade, slow and careful, like he was something fragile. Like Peter thought he could hurt him. Wade snorted, hand grabbing himself to tug at his falling erection.

He couldn't stand this. Couldn't stand those eyes looking at him again, with all their open understanding.

"Peter –" he tried. But Peter slipped another finger into him, sharper this time, and moved up Wade's body to capture his lips in a kiss. Wade moaned into Peter's mouth, tongue roughly probing at his lips. But Peter kept the kiss clean. Kept it soft and simple. It wasn't fair.

The fingers inside him curled, and Wade howled when that sweet spot within him was stroked, so rough he ended up biting his own tongue when he jumped. But by then Peter had opened his mouth, salving the wound that had already begun to close. Wade hummed, so lost in the pleasure of those soft lips and that sinful tongue that he almost didn't notice the fingers slipping out of him.

And it was too late. Because by the time he did, something larger and so much better had pressed against his entrance, pushing so slowly into Wade it was unbearable. He whined, hips jolting to get him in faster, bucking and rocking to feel that familiar _burn_ that he welcomed so wholly every time Peter took him from the top. But Peter held him down firmly. Stretched him so slowly, so carefully, there was only anticipation. And the quiet reminder of Peter's promise as the stereo continued to play in the background.

The pace was gentle.

It was maddening. Timed to the droning instruments.

But it brought him so, so close to that edge, so close and just barely near that breaking point. He panted, mumbling into Peter's shoulder words he couldn't remember seconds after they were spoken, just lost in this pleasurable tension. Lost in the eyes that never so much as glanced away for a second from him, no matter how hard he tried to convince them.

Peter's thrusts grew deeper, and all Wade could do was whimper as their rhythm started to break. He clutched Peter tight, fingers digging into the tense muscles of his back.

So, so _close_.

And like something out of a sappy romance, he came to the lyric '_will you stay with me, will you be my love_'.

The stereo glitched out right after, and Wade did all he could to hold back a broken sob.

It wasn't nearly enough.


End file.
